And to think all that good came from the paparazzi
by JenniferHare22
Summary: This is story about what happens when Sherlock get bored and goes out to town where he meets a mysterious young lady that will change his life forever! Includes looks into his mind, including flashbacks 'takes place after season 2 episode two: the hounds of baskerville! Rated t for extremely mild swearing and suggesting of suggestive material, literally, read and you will see
1. boredom comes

**Hi everyone! this is my first story so i hope you enjoy it :P, anyways I just wanted to say that is in third person omniscient point of view, the third person part is obvious but the omniscient means from time to time you get to look inside the worlds only consulting criminal's mind! I have a weird way of thinking, so please read the whole sentence if you are confused before you judge! Ok i think that is it for now, I hope you enjoy :D!**

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_What to think. What to think? What to think!? _Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective thought as he paced past the beautiful chocolate and light gray wallpaper the flanked the sofa side wall of his flat.

_Why does the world have to be so incredibly dull? Maybe if people weren't so blatantly ordinary extraordinary occurrences would become ordinary and then I would never be bored. But with such an extraordinary world around me everything would become the same monotone extraordinary making the extraordinary the ordinary and therefore again causing boredom! What do ordinary people do when they are bored? Well obviously they would easily become re-entertained by any silly thought or thing that pops into their moronic little minds. "Oh look a butterfly! Look how pretty it is as it flutters by!" Idiotic! _Sherlock ranted as he dramatically flopped himself onto the sofa causing his satiny cobalt bathrobe to swoosh up and then gently tumble back down a top his now contorted body. Plunging his elbow into the tarnished chestnut leather of his sofa, the world's greatest detective propped himself up into what primary school students would call the "crisscross applesauce" position. He then proceeded to press his fingertips together, leaning his head forward just enough for the ends of his fingers to lightly graze his lower lip. Closing his eyes, the detective continued to ponder what to do in his mind palace.

_Research different forms of hallucinogens and their properties? No, that won't do, I need a puzzle! Creating a hallucinogen from such researched hallucinogens _ _that__ would cause a hypnotic state,_ _now_ that_ would be exciting... but I need to do the research first so that won't do. Hmm... puzzles, picture puzzles are too easy, word puzzles would also hardly face a challenge, and how would that help improve my deductive reasoning? What could have been used to help my previous cases... Well I_ could_ research planetary and solar changes throughout time but that is not only most likely to never be of importance again but also not the mental stimulant my mind needs!__ No, I need something different, something new and fascinating! Instead of this no good, boring, ordinary, typical humdrum of flat life with..._

"Johhnnnn..." Sherlock called hopes that his ex-military doctor flatmate would hastily approach. "Johh-"

"What the blazes do you need Sherlock!?" the cable-knit sweater wearing and obviously annoyed, sole friend of Sherlock abruptly interrupted as he rushed into the flat's main room as fast as his short little legs would allow him.

"John I'm bored!" the detective exclaimed as he simultaneously threw his hands in the air and jumped off the sofa out of frustration.

"So, go _do_ something." John harshly responded barely even glancing away from his computer screen.

"But what! Nothing around me serves a challenge. I'm bored John, BORED! Even shooting the bloody wall is uninteresting to me at the moment John! I need something to do... yes ... something new and exciting. But what is their to do that is new and exciting when all of the help request we get are easy open shut cases? John, find something for me to do John!" Sherlock asked in a manner that was the closest the detective would ever be to pleading.

"Sherlock, I am trying to work on my blog." Clearly unamused, Sherlock rolled his eyes and plopped himself down in the chair across from the laptop, and more importantly,across from John. "Did you know it has 985,092 views now! That's bloody incredible! You should see all of the comments..."

"BORING!" said Sherlock rudely interrupting.

"Sherlock!" John Watson spat with a new level of aggravated harshness as he turned around to look at his flatmate with a new furious fire of vexation burning his eyes. "This is _MY_ blog, something _I_ find important and I need peace and quiet to complete it so shut your bloody trap!" At this, a hush fell over 221B. Not the nice, peaceful, pleasant hush of calm and serenity; no this was the sharp, piercing silence of anger that that made your whole body itch for something, anything to break it. Unblinking, the two flatmates stared into each others eyes, the level of tension soaring. Both of them were burning for the other to make the first move or throw the first punch, both literally or metaphorically.

"Only daft idiots like yourself have to find their own nonviable sense of importance in something as inconsequentially trivial as a few digits at the top of your computer screen." the unamiable machine of a man hissed, his voice barely above the heavy breaths that had filled the room just prior to his coarse remark.

"Out" John Watson stated in a way that Sherlock Holmes knew was more of a threat than a request.

Slowly pushing himself out of the creaking chair, Sherlock rose and turned toward the exit of his flat. Proceeding forward, the detective grabbed his signature coat and scarf,throwing them on and then immediately heading out the door with out a word to his flatmate and surprisingly enough, the only person he considered to be his friend.


	2. Just coffee for me, Thanks

The buds on the trees were just peaking out of their bark-encompassed shells as Sherlock Holmes sauntered throughout the busy streets of London. It was a beautiful day, with the for once cloudless spring sky a stunning pale turquoise color. Even the world's only consulting detective couldn't deny it's splendor, and secretly ravished in it's glamour. It would have been quite peaceful, perhaps even serene, if it were not for the bloody awful ruckus of blaring car horns that permeated the city streets.

Not only that, but the constant shrill coos of birds circling above in the air, the annoying sharp _Ding!_ of a bike bell, and then the follow up of it's irritating clinks and clunks of the turning wheels and gears was almost too much unnecessary babble for Sherlock's head to handle.

He had too sit down.

Looking around him, he spotted a nice little restaurant called La Doi Elle and decided he should duck in there for a nice hot cup of coffee and more importantly, some peace and quiet. Sliding into a booth near the back of the cafe, Sherlock flags over a waitress. _Hmm, I guess 5:31 in the afternoon isn't too late to have a coffee._

"One medium coffee, black, two sugars please for me thanks." the detective told the waitress.

"ah.. aren't you that detective? The deducing sort from that blog?" the waitress stuttered.

"Just a coffee for me, thanks" he restated with a growl.

Sherlock then made himself aware of his surroundings. _Hmm... let's see.. the man in front corner opposite of the door is nervous, clearly shown by his bouncing leg. The sweat running down his forehead suggests his nervousness is also in fear, but of what? Well considering the fact he chose a spot near to the door and by a window he is most likely waiting for someone, and he seems to brought along a gift. Probably a piece offering considering his fear of the yet to arrive. So he obviously wants to please this person. But who? A future boss? No, too informally dressed. Same thing applies for any sort of financial or police trouble he could be in. There has to be something else..__  
_

"Ah ha!" Sherlock exclaimed. _Why didn't I think of it before? Clearly this man has just been caught cheating, I mean look at his wedding ring, too well lubricated for the grungy man he is. Plus the gift! Wrapped with a red ribbon clearly shows sign of romantic interest._ Looking down at his watch he saw it was 5:33, and frowned. _Under two minutes isn't bad but certainly not my best work, I have to get that coffee._

"Here you go sir, one medium coffee, black, two sugars, just like you asked" she said with a smile.

"Thanks" replied the detective. _Finally I can have some caffeine, _ he thought as he brought the steaming hot cream porcelain cup up to his lips. But just as he started to down the first gulp, a bright light flashed shocking the detective almost to the point of spilling his coffee.

He looked up, startled, to see a large group of paparazzis at the cafe's window cameras flashing all desperately trying to capture the best polaroid of the now famous consulting detective. _Another bloody problem with John's tedious blog... _he thought with growing frustration. Sherlock wouldn't deny that he love the praise he received from his obvious, but yet brilliant talent for deduction. He even enjoyed the appreciation, but just found the way in which the world displayed such affection boring and tedious just like everything else. _If they want me to keep working on cases, they should have learned by now that I need peace and quiet to properly function! I have got to escape those wearisome lights... _he thought taking another swig of his coffee whilst blocking out some of the ghastly white light of camera flash using his hand. They would be coming in at any moment. He had to find a way to escape the paparazzi! _ Let's see, I could escape through some back door.. but the cafe has another shop connected at the back. I could climb through the bathroom window but by the time I would have hoisted myself up they would have noticed my absence and started to search the block for me. I could hide and make them think I have escaped, but at least one would stay behind in case I hadn't. I could also hide and wait them out, but the cafe closes in a few hours and considering all of the unused film rolls they're carrying I'm guessing they would be happy to wait me out... Think Sherlock, Think! They will be coming in at any moment._

And just like that it hit him. It might not be a permanent solution, but it would at least by him some time.

Rising, he casually strolled over to the rather large and balding cafe manager and in his most awkwardly polite manner asked "Is there some sort of private telly I could use? It seems I have forgotten my phone."

"Uh.. sure. There might be a wall phone in that here back closet." the manager gruffly replied.

"Thanks" Sherlock replied, a fake smile plastered across his face. _Uneducated cunt, _Sherlock thought with much dismay as he briskly walked to the closet. Grasping the golden handle now turned a grayish color by it's obvious lack of care, Sherlock tried to decide what he would do with his new small locked room of privacy. _I could phone John, but he would probably be too angered to pick up let alone help. _Turning the handle and pushing with what seemed like all of his weight, the door finally gave way and opened. Stepping into the what seemed to be a dimly lit storage closet, the detective immediately turned back around and locked the door to allow himself ample amount of time to think of a better escape. _I wonder if Mrs. Hudson would mind picking me up, but all of the of the fuss she would..._

Turning around Sherlock's blood ran cold.

He was caught unaware in a dark, locked, and most probably sound proof room.

But what really terrified him most, was the fact that indeed he was not alone.


	3. The Stranger

**Hello Readers! I Just wanted to say I am so happy by the amount of views/visitors I have! Also, I would like to highly encourage you to write a review. Whether its a question, concern, comment, "i love it", ":D" or constructive criticism I just would love to know what you think. Even if you hate it, TELL ME WHY, so i can become a better author. Also, be prepared to expect a PM back ;P. **

**-JH**

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You would not think that the sight of a young teenage girl, wide eyed, and finger pressed to her lips as though pleading him to stay quiet would frighten the very tall and well trained in fighting Sherlock Holmes. But staring into her brown, no, hazel eyes the detective was completely stunned.

_How could have I been stupid enough not to check my surroundings? I should have sensed her immediately... _the detective thought angrily about his short-lived moment of stupidity. But looking at the girl again, Sherlock rationally realized that this girl was in no way, shape, or form a threat. Her what seemed to be a deep chestnut, army green eyes were wide in terror, not awe. She was practically shaking, through her lightweight belted red pea-coat. Even her mousy-brown, disheveled hair underneath her knit black beret and crumpled cream and black patterned silk scarf was on edge. _So why did she frighten me so? _Then he realized, it was not the fact that she was here that bothered him. No, it was the fact that for Sherlock not to detect her until they stood face to face meant that this girl had to be more used to disappearing into the darkness alone than the average person. He couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly he felt about this new information, all he knew is that it was a sad feeling of remembering his own lonely teen years. Looking at her again Sherlock nodded to inform the girl that he would, in fact, be quiet. At the sight of this simple gesture, the girl seemed to relax immediately; calming every little muscle in her face enough for Sherlock to see that in her odd own little way that she was quite beautiful.

Releasing a sigh, the girl whispered "Are you in some sort of trouble? You look very on edge."

"Yes," Sherlocked said. "But how did you know..."

"Well you practically jumped out of your skin, you were so wound up when you saw me!" The girl replied before Sherlock had the chance to finish his sentence. "My name's Janaya," the girl continued with sudden cheeriness as she extended her hand for the consulting detective to shake. "and lucky for you, I would be absolutely ecstatic to help you Mr. Holmes!" she virtually laughed. "Now, what exactly is this predicament that led you to lock yourself in a supplies closet in the back of a cafe?" Janaya asked, her eyes wide again, but now with a look of excitement and sympathy instead of fear.

Sherlock then proceeded to tell Janaya about how he "decided" to go out for a walk and then stopped to get some coffee where he suspected the waitress phoned the paparazzi whom he was now trying to escape. The whole time Janaya nodded, not only to show that she was listening, but with what seemed to be true understanding. Even muttering under her breath about those blasted birds when Sherlock explained what a nuisance the outside world was. Once he was finished, a smile crept across Janaya's face and her eyes gleamed with what Sherlock would soon learn was her signature mischievous look.

"I know _exactly_ what we should do." Janaya calmly stated, her side smile now breaking out into a full blown grin.

Lowering her voice, Janaya explained her plan to Sherlock. Once she was finished, Sherlock brought his pressed together hands to his lips in what Janaya would soon learn was his signature thinking pose.

"Do you really think making a scene is the best idea?" the detective asked after a few moments of thought.

"Yes, we will only be slightly making a scene, just enough to fit in and fool the paparazzi, but not enough to be actually noticed. The paparazzi would never expect you to draw attention to yourself or look so ridiculous. Besides, they will only be looking for one man, not the two of us; AND our little scene will give us a perfect excuse to rush out quickly." Janaya beamed.

_I would have thought of such a suitable plan myself if I had a few more moments..._ the worlds only consulting detective arrogantly assured himself. But looking back at Janaya's bright, young, hopeful face, the deducing mastermind couldn't help but be glad that he had an outside of the box thinker on his side.

"I suppose this plan will do..." Sherlock said with fake boredom as Janaya's eyes lit up with joy and stifled a squee of delight. Seeing her delighted excitement, Sherlock couldn't help but genuinely smile for the first time that day.

X~`*****'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~`*'~X

"Oi! Don't forget the lipstick!" Janaya exclaimed as she snapped her head down and frantically searched through her purse. Finally grasping the slippery metallic tube, she handed it to Sherlock. Once in his hand, the detective inspected it and was dismayed to find it was a rather alarming shade of red.

"So I just ...um..." Sherlock started as he cautiously and dreadingly pulling the vile makeup closer.

"No no not like that!" Janaya blurted out. "You are supposed to look like a woman of class, not some second rate whore!" she clarified running over and snatching the lipstick out of his hands. "Pucker up, Sherlock" the mischievous girl whispered with a smile.

The detective gave her a rather serious look of disturbed confused confusion.

Seeing his rather hilarious expression of horror, the teen rolled her eyes. "It's to put on the lipstick, silly." She again clarified with a sigh that seemed to scream _Obviously_. "I don't like you like _that _and if I did, I would take advantage of us being trapped in this closet together in a totally different way." teased the cheeky adolescent. Understandingly, Sherlock awkwardly obliged to her odd request and puckered his lips. Bursting into a fit of giggles, Janaya expertly applied the phone booth red lipstick to the detective's extremely pronounced lips. "Now blot like this into the tissue." Janaya said the disposable fabric in hand. Handing the master of deduction the hanky, she then proceeded to rub her lips together back and forth in a way Sherlock found alarmingly aggressive.

"That looks incredibly ridiculous, you know that right?" mumbled the detective before having a go himself.

"Perfect!" smiled Janaya. "If I wasn't here for that one minute transformation I wouldn't have recognized you myself."

"Considering that was the look we are going for, I think we were rather successful." he replied.

"Want to have a final look before we head out? I bet your opinion is _Much_ more qualified than mine." Janaya asked sarcastically pulling out a small makeup mirror from her bag.

"Why not?" the detective rhetorically responded ignoring her apparent sarcasm. Looking into the mirror, Sherlock was impressed by Janaya's skill with theatrical makeup. He was not surprised by how feminine he looked with her silk scarf tight drawn over his head, tied under his chin as if to hold together some imaginary long locks of hair as his now, with an extensive amount of brushing and product, straight bangs hanging limply over the right side of his face. For he had always knew his highly pronounced cheekbones made him look not only rather odd, but fairly womanly, as was made considerably apparent to him in his younger years. The large girly shades, rouge, lipstick and red belt around his midsection also helped emphasize the look he was trying to achieve.

"Ready to go _Mummy_?" Janaya mockingly inquired the detective.

"Yes" he, or shall we now say _she, _replied unlocking the closet door. _We are going to pose as mother and daughter..._Janaya's words spoken only seconds earlier replayed through Mr. Holmes' mind. _We just got done talking to the chef after complaining about the way the cafe roasted the coffee, we are quite rich and snobby you see._ He recalled pushing open the doors and walking to the edge of the kitchen. "I can not BE-LIE-VE the way they roasted coffee! How disgraceful! Can you believe it dear?" Sherlock overdramatically acted in his shrillest of voices._ I will be rather __embarrassed and keep protesting about how you are "totally ruining my life". _

"Mummy you are being SO unfair again, if the kids at school saw you like this I would, like, literally DIE of embarrassment. Why do you have to keep, like, TOTALLY ruining my life? You are SOOOO unfair!" Janaya replied in a particularly screechy high pitched whine.

_These characters and our bickering will give us an excuse to hurry towards the doors without giving the paparazzi so much as a second glance. _

"Don't whine to mummy like that again, you know how terrible it makes mummy feel." he replied with fake sympathy while rushing to the door and shouting "out of my way" while pushing through the uninterested paparazzi.

"You can't, like, try to plead back my sympathy, and I'm, like, not eight anymore so you can't, like, buy me another pony either!" Janaya scoffed with an exaggerated eye roll as she pushed open the Cafe Doi Elle's double doors.

"Oh please don't be a pest, I'll buy you the newest mobile! How does that sound sweetie?" the disguised detective responded, final free of his sweetly aromatic prison. They carried on the act to the end of the block, and then ducked into the alley relieved about their successful escape.

"That was great work, who knew the world's only consulting detective would make such a brilliant actor?" Janaya complemented.

"You weren't the worst actress either." Sherlock acknowledged. "I thought if you said 'Like' one more time I would have to gag you."

"Did you just make a joke?" Janaya asked with a fake overly shocked expression. "Well aren't we full of surprises today Mr. Holmes?" Janaya added with a chuckle that when Sherlock caught glimpse of the cheer in her eyes, became contagious until the point where their laughs seemed to fill the dark alley they occupied.


	4. Janaya: More Than a Name

**Hello again!**

** Sorry about the last few chapters being so short, I honestly thought that last one was too long! Realizing my error, the chapters to follow will be around this length, 2,830 words! (that is minus this text up here of course) **

**I wanted to also say this chapter is rather sad, and that if you are a fragile soul you might want to grab the box of tissues now.**

** Also THIS IS NOT A ROMANCE FANFIC! I am fine with all of those ships out there, and decided to do something different than all of the romantic fluff out there.**

**I do not own Sherlock by any means, but I do own my own original character Janaya.**

**Hope you guys enjoy the Chapter! -JH**

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Walking out of the alley after their momentary fit of giggles, the pair was silent, both reflecting and comprehending all of the bizarre events that happened in the last few minutes. Sherlock, possibly the person with the greatest mind alive, was perplexed by not how the events happened, but more of_ why_, they happened.

_How could have I been stupid enough to trust someone I don't know with my secrecy? She could have called the paparazzi right over, just wanting them to take ridiculous polaroids of me in drag... _The detective angrily scolded himself while throwing his head up in frustration.

But out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her again. She was in a state of confused awe, her face twisting and wrinkling with the slight changes in emotion as she recalled the events that didn't happen more than twenty minutes ago. Sherlock did not believe in a sixth sense, in any supernatural powers other than himself, or such a ridiculous thing as magic, but he could not deny that something unexplainable had compelled him to trust her. Instead of leaving it as it was something unexplainable, Sherlock decided to start what might be one of his hardest cases of all; deducing what he discerned in this girl and why he sensed it. Mr. Holmes then smiled to himself, this was just the puzzle that he had been hoping for, this would certainly be an inquiry that would keep him engrossed for a while.

Turning to Janaya again, Sherlock decided to start for his search for the truth with one simple question; "Why were you sad?"

Janaya, thoughts clearly interrupted by what seemed to be this out of the blue question, the muscles in her face contorting to an obviously fake look of confusion, with a slight look of true embarrassment peeking through as color in her cheeks, turned to him and asked "Why would you ask such a silly question?" Sherlock could not explain it, but he knew when someone was in physical pain; and the smile she plastered on her face just before she turned her face and averted her eyes had somehow literally hurt her.

Now extremely flustered but still remaining calm and slightly excited by this new challenge's complexity, Sherlock explained. "Clearly you were crying, as evident by your flawless makeup except for around your eyes. There is just traces of make up there, and you clearly wiped off your mascara as indicated by the mixture of slight foundation but mainly mascara on the inside tips of your fingers and thumb." Sherlock sighed boredom of having to explain the indisputable while he was trying to figure out the inexplicable. "Also, your eyes were slightly bloodshot, and there was liquid residue on your face, I now assume to be the remains of tears; now will you please stop stalling and tell me what is wrong." Sherlock stated, his voice raising both in volume and intensity throughout the final sentence.

Looking back at Janaya, Sherlock could blatantly see her face had changed again. Though her face was relaxed, her eyes were penetrating despite them brimming with tears. He found the way she looked at him most unpleasant, it was if _she_ was trying to deduce _him_, that mixed with a mixture of remembrance as indicated by looking up and to the right after looking at Sherlock for a few moments.

"It was just a stupid prank, thats all.." Her voice trailing off after her memories, voice cracking and a single tear slowly descending down the long bridge of her nose. Quickly wiping it away and looking back up at Sherlock she flashed a smile and said more cheerily this time "It's nothing, I'm fine!"

Hearing those words, Sherlock's own eyes turned turned up and to the right. Remembering how he was fairly familiar to the cruelty of adolescents (a cruelness he was surprised Janaya herself had not showed whilst Sherlock was crossdressing) he followed the shadow of a boy lost to the cruelties of the word down into the chasms of mind.

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Nervously bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet the boy's head snapped up, his black curls bouncing, as he saw his first ever friend, Celia Harthwright, open the door. "Sorry if you were busy, I was just in the neighborhood and wondered if you wanted to spend some time with your friend?" the boy, who would grow up to be the world's only consulting detective, replied to the opening of the door.

Celia Harthwright stood there, _was that, stunned?_, for a moment before she heard a voice from inside the house say "Is that Marcy? I told you that stupid bitch would be late, if she wasn't so rich I would vote her prized pig at the fair instead of being friends with her." Sherlock did not like the owner of that voice as much as he disliked the words she said. The girl was Malory Johnson, the, as his peers said, 'most popular' girl in school. As she appeared, her perfect caramel hair was being drawn up into what seemed to be an effortlessly sleek ponytail by her flawlessly manicured hands. Upon seeing that it was not Marcy, as she formerly suspected, but Sherlock Holmes her jaw dropped making her mouth fall into the precise shape of the letter 'O'. The she-devil then, eyes never moving off of Sherlock's face, then leaned in to Celia's ear and harshly whispered "What is _The_ _Freak _doing here?" loud enough for the now hurt boy to hear.

"I...I.. don't know" Celia replied, eyes pleading for Sherlock to understand. But he did not understand. It should not have been surprising, him not understanding his peers, but he had never had that problem with Celia. That was the whole point not only of their friendship, but also of her favorite flower, a single red rose, he had hidden in the folds of his jacket. Celia had always been straightforward and honest, she never said any rhetorical questions, or used grammatically incorrect phrases, with what Celia had told him, had very rude double meanings. He admired these qualities, that it now seemed, she previously had, that his feelings for her had developed into something more. Something where he started to pay more attention to how she smelled of apple cinnamon pie, and how that made happy memories of the two of them working together on a science project flood to his mind. Something where he focused more and more on her mouth, and stored every conversation they had in his mind palace to bring out again when Mycroft was ignoring him to make his tears turn to smiles. This very something had drawn him to buy the flower, and to go to her house that very day to talk with Celia about what, he deduced were, feelings for her.

"How did The Freak know where you live, the creep!" Malory shrieked in what, judging by her face, he understood as disgusted horror. "Go on now Celia, shoo him off, I mean you aren't actually _friends_, with this... this _creature_ are you?" Malory spat nudging Celia forward.

Much to his dismay, Celia, tears hinting at the corners of her eyes then replied "No we are..we're just _colleagues"... _she mumbled, the word 'collaegue' hauntingly echoing throughout the future super sleuth's mind. "Get out, go away! You are just a weirdo, a geek, a total freak, a loser!" Celia practically screamed at the slowly backing away jilted boy. "How could you even think you could have friends like normal people, you monstrous abomination!" She yelled, now fully crying.

A single tear cascading down his cheek, hand reaching for what was meant to be his precious gift, he started to mouth the word 'but', but before the plea for mercy could leave his mouth, Celia said with one final vengeance "Did you honestly believe I could ever be concerned for such a foul anomaly as your inhuman self? Get. Out." she stated with perfect clarity slowly raising her head as she did so, no longer doing this based off of Malory's will but on her own accord.

Rose now out of pocket, he dropped the tarnished flower at her feet. He watched as the delicate petals bounced off of the cold, rough, pavement before turning and running back into the empty street. After running for a few seconds, he stopped , a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes before turning around to have that glimmer overcome by the darkness of heartbreak as he saw the rose exactly where he left it, and the two girls gone inside the now shut door of the pretty white house.

Funny that such a bright house could hold such dark memories he thought, rushing home to, hopefully, find some comfort in Mycroft's ever caring arms.

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"Sherlock, are you alright? You look dreadful." Janaya's voice infiltrated through the shroud of sinister memories that encompassed the man's mind.

"Of course I'm fine." Sherlock replied bitterly.

"No you're not." Janaya replied stopping him and looking into his eyes. "Sherlock, I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to answer honestly, not that you are not used to that or anything, but still be honest ok?"

"That is a strange request, but I shall accept it." Sherlock already trying to deuce her incoming question.

"Alright, here we go, Looking at me now what do you deduce about me?" Janaya asked. Sherlock had never had someone _ask_ to be deduced before. _Why does she want to know? Is she that shallow that she always needs to know what other people think of her? _Taking a look at his new-found companion, he started to search her for clues about her life.

"You clearly have experience with makeup, and you knew how to act, considering your performance in our escape plan." Sherlock told Janaya. "You also must know how snobby girls act, again judging by your portrayal of your character that helped me escape, Janaya." " You are also light on your feet, and blends into the shadows, that suggests stealth or more likely, dance experience." _Now look, Sherlock. What other clues do you see in her appearance alone? "_You clearly care about your image, judging by the amount of product in your hair and nice clothes." _But what does that say about her as a person? "_I deduce, considering what I have previously stated, that you are a fairly popular actress, probably has had a few boyfriends that acts cruel to boost her image, as most girls of your status do." Sherlock smiled with his pleasing work. But something in the back of his mind was bothering him. _If this girl is what I deduced, why does her personality attract me so when most like her have a tendency to pull away?_

"You know, I expected better from the one the world considers the greatest mind alive." Janaya spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly, a sad smile creeping across her face. Leaning in, her face just inches from his, her breath hot against his cheek, she hissed the words "You are completely and utterly wrong, how does that change in scenery feel?". "People in school know more about me than you deduced. But I knew you would fail, just not this badly." she said backing away, her voice returning to normal.

"You see that was a test, and a sort of example to prove a point." "The _real_ Janaya has been bullied every day of her life since third grade. Possibly longer, she just was too innocent to realize the world's cruelty, sort of the girl that would always be in her own little world you know?" she sighed, voice still soft and low. "The _real _Janaya has never been popular, more of the bottom of the totem pole. She _used _to care what others thought of her, but now dresses fabulously to bring her some of the confidence she lost through years of ridicule and dresses differently to show the world that even though she looks weak, no one can break her inside, and make her true self hide, no matter how brutally they treat her." She stated, a dark bitterness added to her voice. "The stealth was created to protect her, for no one would see Janaya in the shadows, no one to betray her or hurt her." "Yes, being behind the scenes as costumer might have something to do with it, but you would have never guessed Janaya has two left feet would you?" "Yes, Janaya has experience with snobby girls, she goes to school with them everyday and dreadingly hears them talk about their rich, superficial lives she loathes."

"But why did I tell you this Sherlock, hmm.. any guesses?" her voice said with a newfound relentless viciousness. "Well guess what? That question was rhetorical, as was the last, so I am going to tell you." Sighing and truly returning to normal, she turned to Sherlock, looked into his eyes and said "It's so you can understand that You _Can_ Trust Me."she said, tears brimming in her eyes for at least the third time that day. "I don't know what terrible past has made you as cold as you are, but I know pain." she stated a few hot stray tears inching down her face. "I know what it does. I know how it makes you feel, and that is why I have sworn to myself to never, ever let anyone feel that way. Whether that be defending someone despite their circumstance, or holding my tongue, I swear I will never hurt you, and that I want to help you heal." She said with true affection, her cheeks now soaked with the sweet saltiness of her sadness.

"Still need proof? I was sad because some STUPID boys thought it would funny to send me fake love notes and gifts for the last week,from 'an anonymous secret admirer' and the first 'boy' I have EVER know to like me." she explained, fresh drops of water cascading down. "Then yesterday, they put a note in my locker saying I should meet him here for a date where he would reveal his true identity." "And sure enough he did!" she said smiling and shaking her head again tears still flowing from her eyes. "At the table there was note explaining how I would never be loved, and how I was stupid enough to believe that someone would ever think of me like that. So I calmly asked the manager to use a phone to ring my mum, then rushed into the closet." She sighed. "But once inside, the darkness reminded me of my loneliness and I sat in there and sobbed for what must have been a good twenty minutes, unable to ring my Mum. I regained my composure and was about to get up and actually phone there when you stepped in, and , well, you know the rest." she finished.

Then she broke down. There Janaya was, sobbing uncontrollably, and shivering in what was now the ever growing dark, cold, night; just a few feet away from the world's only consulting detective. He watched her, her face twisting in and out of what normally Sherlock would describe as agonizing pain. After four minutes and thirty one seconds Sherlock predicted by his constantly checking his watch, she fully stopped.

After allowing her to catch her breath, Sherlock finally replied "I believe you."

Janaya's face gradually looked up and at Sherlock's while simultaneously slowly building an obviously fake smile, that he appreciated nonetheless.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Thirty minutes in the opposite direction, driving." Janaya replied her faked smile contorting into a real one.

"Well I certainly can not allow you to walk home all alone." Sherlock replied. "Plus, as I understand it, you have not had dinner and are most likely too polite to point out the fact that you are hungry even though you are in apparent need for sustenance." He added, then finally concluded with "Therefore I must request you join me for dinner."

"I would love to." she replied.

Offering out his arm, Janaya linked hers with his as they started to walk home to 221B, Baker Street.

"Now tell me," Sherlock said trying to induce casual conversation, "What do _you _deduce about me?"


	5. Dinner With John

**Hello there, me again, **

**I just wanted to say that I know the way I describe things can be confusing and many of you wonder how this story is going to go anywhere so I created a Pinterest board under the same title for images of certain things that are harder to explain and for hints of what's to come! Hope you check it out and follow the board because I will be posting more!**

** Enjoy!**

* * *

After a wonderful long walk of discussing cases, philosophy, science, literature, the tediousness of people, and Janaya and Sherlock themselves; the pair finally turned the corner where Sherlock caught sight of the modest flat he called home. Though instead of the happy memories and comforting feeling most people get upon seeing their residence, Mr. Holmes's mind filled with the slamming of doors subsequently following his argument with John Watson. Not wanting his, quite possibly, still rather resentful roommate to be angry, the detective approached the door to his flat with caution. Proceeding into the flat, he started up the iron spiraling staircase, Janaya at his heels.

"I have only been gone for a few hours, so my flatmate might not expect me to be back so soon," Sherlock stated upon reaching the top of the stairs. "So just push past him and make yourself comfortable if he just stands there like an idiot." He finished sliding his keys into the door's lock.

"Wait,you have a flatma..." Janaya started a hint of unreasonable confusion in her voice, her brow furrowing in thought, as sherlock opened the door.

Looking across the room as he opened the flat's door, Sherlock was able to see John's head snap up from over his laptop, in what Sherlock deduced to be surprise, at the sound of the door opening. His compatriot then, seeing it was Mr. Holmes, started toward him lips purseing tightly together in clear frustration. Angrily stomping towards his flatmate, the small man then started to open his mouth to no doubt thrust upon the detective some foul language; but then stopped when a girl in a red peacoat, her tawny wavy hair bouncing along behind her as she went, plop down on the couch not two yards away from him. As Janaya walked in Sherlock had the sheer pleasure of watching his companion's face soften from one of murderous rage to complete, utter, dumbfounded shock.

Snapping his head back and looking again at Sherlock, John grilled the detective "What in God's name is _she _doing here?!" now fuming.

"Now John," Sherlock began, a small smile igniting thinking out his response, "That is no way to treat our guest."

"Our..Our.. our what? **Our** guest? How.. **How,** can you call her **our** guest?! I Haven't even met her and why the bloody hell is she even your guest?!" John ranted, searching for an answer.

"You're John?" an unexpected and higher pitched voice sounded not two yards away from where the deducing pair where standing. "John.. John Watson?!" she asked again with a fresh look of excitement in her eyes.

"Is that all you got from that?" John now addressed the girl.

Springing off of her self proclaimed spot, Janaya rushed toward, what Sherlock was soon surprised to see was John, and started blabbering: "Omg! I can't believe it is actually you!I love, love love, your blog! Your writing is not only brilliantly funny but extremely descriptive and exciting! I check for new updates every day I swear!"

Upon hearing this John released a secret slow smile that most ordinary people wouldn't notice upon hearing her adoration then returned to his previous stern expression and replied "Thank you". Then he slowly turned his head back to the detective as he stated "I didn't know my blog was so important to people" in a monotone voice while giving the worlds only consulting detective a glare that could cause a homicide of it's own. Addressing both of them this time, he continued "Now can we _**please** _get back to the matter at hand? Hmm?"

"This is Janaya," Sherlock stated as Janaya took the cue and extended her hand in greeting. Upon shaking it, Sherlock proceeded "She saved me from rather tedious paparazzi who were _also _colossal fans of your so called 'Blog'."

Catching on, Janaya grumbled almost inaudibly _"Sorry to fuel the lovers quarrel"_ before backing away, her head down in, a new expression Sherlock did not recognize ever coming from the her.

"Thank you for helping my flatmate," John confessed, either not hearing,or more likely, ignoring Janayas remark, then turned back to Sherlock and stated "But Sherlock and I have other matters to discuss, so if you would please.."

"She was actually going to stay for dinner." Sherlock interrupted, unphased by John's hint of an upcoming long and dreary argument. "Her helping me did not give her time to wait for her supper to arrive." he said turning to the girl as he said so, her flashing him a look of grateful relief on hiding the truth from his friend. "I thought it would be rude to not repay her for her kind actions by treating her to a nice dinner here." With that Sherlock turned around and started toward the kitchen calling out behind him to Janaya "Come look in the fridge, you can warm up whatever suits you."

x/x/x/x/x/x/x/xx/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x /x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/xx/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/

After sitting down around the stainless steel island that was amid the various groceries, cabinets, science experiments and occasional head that consisted of 221B's kitchen the three of them were able to enjoy the homey delights of Mrs. Hudson's left over lasagna from the night before while squirming in discomfort at the awkward so called conversation that commenced. Sherlock tried to carry on conversation, talking to both John and Janaya separately, but the two of them still felt unwelcome in each others company. After a few minutes of a feeble attempt at conversation, Mr. Holmes finally gave up and let the flat fall into an uncomfortable silence that seemed to suck the comfort out of the formerly delicious food before them. After a few moments, John finally spoke up, saying,"You know, I didn't know you cared so much about offending other peoples_ feelings". _Then after a few moments of stunned silence, added, "Oh wait, that's right, you don't! I am your, self proclaimed mind you, only friend, and **yet** you care more about whether or not you are rude to some... some _juvenile_ then about offending your only friend!" John slowly raised his voice, now clearly distraught, to a shout. This statement caused Sherlock to stare at John, his usually caring for others friend, in disbelief at his bluntness that Sherlock himself usually brought to the table.

"Umm... excuse me?" a tiny slightly higher pitched voice spoke up, "Where is your powder room?" Janaya asked discomfort masking her usually happy face as she stared absent mindedly at the plate before her.

"Through the door at the end kitchen, down the hall, and to your left." Sherlock answered never breaking eye contact with his sweater wearing associate.

Watching her scamper off, head still down and avoiding all eye contact, Sherlock was thinking about how many feelings she must have experienced that day and the effects that must have on her hormone levels when he was pulled out of his thoughts, quite literally, when John grabbed him by the scarf and considerably roughly pulled the detective toward himself. Then he whispered in his ear, voice as deep and dark as the paris catacombs, "What is it with her Sherlock? What make some annoying teenage girl more _important,_ why is she so special?"

Sherlock stopped for a moment, stunned by the question. But then he realized it wasn't the question that stunned him, it was the fact that he had no response. For the first time in his adult life Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, did not know the answer to a question. _My mind must have deduced something about her that makes her extraordinary..._ But the more he thought, the more he realized that logically, she was like everyone else. But something, something illogical had driven him to her. He knew she was a mystery, but why was her mystery any different than the average unexplainable questions like 'why are people so ordinary?' _Long ago I had something that drove me to do illogical things. Even when it was putting I and the one I loved's safety on the line. It happened that day didn't it? The one I was thinking of earlier, yes it was after what happened with Celia, that day is at the front of my mind palace isn't it? I still... _The detective started to think but stopped. He had lost that a long time ago, and he was determined to keep it that way. _Just remember the words Sherlock, remember the words..._he thought.

Reconciling, he calmed down again looked back at John, his face at such a close proximity that he realised all of the added wrinkles that have come to be since them working together, and said quite plainly; "Shes what I need to not be bored." _I am not lying, figuring out what about her fascinates me so is going to keep my mind occupied.__  
_

"And how exactly does a beautiful young women, of what, seventeen years old help solve your boredom?" John inquired now looking alarmed and worried along with frustrated. "I swear Sherlock, if she is just some of experiment to you..."

"So since I have another person in my life now you deduce she must be some sort of experiment, what if I just enjoy her company?" Sherlock stated inquisitively. "You better sharpen your deduction skills John because she is clearly sixteen based on her divers education lanyard and sophomore year photo identification card."

"Well that's even better isn't it!" John said sarcastically whilst throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Advancing upon and towering above his assistant, Sherlock hissed "I am not daft John, I know what exactly you are referring to. Yes the circumstances of our meeting and where our relationship stands are a bit blurry, but you should be able to trust me by now to do the most logical option." Backing away a bit he finished by stating "This girl is by no means ordinary, and what makes her extraordinary is the mystery that compels me to learn more, so she is my associate now whether you like it or not."

"Ahem", a forced cough sounded from the other side of the room where Janaya had seemed to mysteriously appeared.

_She really is good on that whole silent creeping up thing...that could be useful... I wonder how long she has been here?... _Sherlock thought before turning to Janaya smiling and relaxing his muscles and saying "No, we just finished."

"Either way it is awfully late and and I don't want to be a bother, so I should head home before my parents begin to worry..." Janaya began, her eyes shiftily glancing around the room trying and failing to avoid the owners of the flat she now occupied faces.

"Janaya, your house is around a one hour and fifteen minute walk from here if my predictions are correct, which of course they are so that would be an unreasonable amount of time to walk home, alone, in the dark so there is no way you could walk." Sherlock replied. "Also, you clearly do not have money for a cab judging by the size and weight of your purse, and as my colleague and I have had the displeasure to discover, cabs are not always the safest way to travel." He continued before Janaya had a chance to object. "Therefore we only have two options,you can either stay here fore the night in a spare room in Mrs. Hudson's flat or I could pay and ride in the cab with you to your house and drop you off there."

"No, no way Sherlock. " John said looking at him with the same look of suspected lunacy so many others have given him before.

"I really should get going..." Janaya also started simultaneously.

"She can not stay here." John started running his hands through his hair in agitation.

"I really would hate to intrude..." Janaya continued looking over at the obviously flustered ex-army doctor.

"What would her parents think?"

"We don't need to bother whoever this ... Mrs. Hudson is too..."

"Oi!" John interjected at hearing Janaya's words about his beloved Mrs, Hudson.

"And my parents really would hate for me to stay overnight at someones house they don't know whom I just met."

"What would anybody think, this needs to end now!" John said staring at Sherlock, still infuriated.

"Then it is decided." Sherlock interrupted, stopping the objections from both parties. "I'll just take a cab and bring you home, I'm sure your parents would love to know who their daughter spent dinner and the last few hours with." Sherlock said reaching what he thought would be a perfect solution.

At this Janaya turned to him, mouth agape, and started to whisper "Oh God.." biting the corner of her lower lip and staring at the floor "I don't think my parents would like that very much either, considering I told them _WHY_ I was going there." She finished, John not knowing why she was there in the first placed looked at the girl confused.

"I can understand why that would cause a predicament." Sherlock said, causing John to look even more puzzled at Sherlock and slightly annoyed that he wasn't included in their secret. _Her parents thinking that I was her date would cause unwanted trouble and possibly ruin my reputation if the media were to be involved _he thought. "So what do you suggest we do Janaya?"

"Just give me some money for a cab I guess..." she said still unsure.

"Time to say goodbye!" John said pushing Janaya toward the door, and while walking past Sherlock he whispered "_Permanently"_ in a demandingly gruff voice.

Once the three of them were outside of the flat, John waved over a taxi while still keeping a close eye on Sherlock. "Here is some money for the cab." He said handing over a fistful of euros that would have covered ten cab rides.

"Thank you" Janaya responded. After a few seconds of silence, a cab finally drove up and parked right at the detective's feet. "Well I guess this is goodbye then." Janaya said with a laugh that reminded Sherlock less of sunshine and more of rain as she extended her hand out for the detective to shake.

"Not necessarily" the detective said grabbing her hand and shaking it with a wink, opening the car door for her. Sliding in, a small slip of paper fell out of the pile of money Sherlock had given her. Watching her through the cab's window, he saw a sly smile slide to side of her face as she read the few digits he had scrawled across the back of the paper. She gave him one final look of glee, one that stayed with him as he saw the cab drive away down the illuminated London road.


	6. Bored with it all

Hello! This isnt a real chapter, I just wanted to say I think Im going to stop writing this. My idea was really good, I just cant think of how to connect all of the ideas together. You see, I had a really great heartbreaking back story for sherlock, one that would be revealed through the audience by his flashbacks. These flash backs would be caused by him trying to figure out Janaya. And in the end they would figure out themselves and why they are the way they are through each other.

So If anyone wants my full idea, PM me and Ill give you the full backstory and email you the story I wrote so far so that you can take it, change it, and make it much better than I ever could.

I hope someone does take it, Its a wonderful idea, im just not talented  
DX

happy writing!

Jennifer Hare


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